


the knots in your soul

by daestruct



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: M/M, Mentions of attempted suicide, Past Drug Use, abuse of the word hyung, boy's club, conmen, it's weird bc this is sebaek and no one dies, jongdae has a hot car, sehun is emotional, the titles says knots and it's not abo, waste of a title
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-14
Updated: 2015-11-14
Packaged: 2018-05-01 13:36:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,277
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5207795
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/daestruct/pseuds/daestruct
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Baekhyun needs Sehun to get what he needs to get by, but Sehun needs Baekhyun to live.</p>
            </blockquote>





	the knots in your soul

**Author's Note:**

> 1\. baek is more like 21 but he's also a liar so  
> 2\. sebaek should be a fluffy cuddly babies pair AND YET i fail continuously with them

Sehun stares down at the drink in his hand, watches the poisonous blue slosh around gently as elbows bump into the counter, new patrons slam their hands down and yell for drinks, or some couple backs into it in the midst of dancing or making out.

Sehun doesn’t see the reality around him though, he sees the blue of his drink, and he sees the shift in the levels of his glass as the alcohol trembles to the rhythm of the bass, vibrates along with the music in the club. He thinks it all would be just a little bit better if the blue in his glass were poison, if its color would take to hit lips in the cold of death. Sehun thinks that perhaps the reason he's so unhappy is simply because there is no happiness for him to be had, and if that is the case, he thinks perhaps being dead would be the simplest way to cure that unhappiness.

Sehun tosses his head back, swallowing the drink as quickly as he can, feeling the rush and the burn of the alcohol as it races down his throat, and he imagines that maybe the same burn would touch him if he were to tie a rope around his neck and pull, pull, _pull._

He opens his eyes, and the scene around him hasn't changed except for the hands of the clock ticking past midnight and dragging on into the following morning. Sehun waves his hand, flagging down the bartender.

"Another," he slurs, attempting to pass the glass back to the man tending the bar. He misjudges the distance, and the glass falls to the ground, the sound of it shattering just an addition to the raucous music being played.

"I'm sorry, sir," the bartender says, frowning at the drink. "I'll have to cut you off." Sehun blinks, and it takes him a moment to comprehend that he won't be allowed another drink, another step closer to the brink.

"Excuse me?" He snaps or tries to, his twisted tongue not allowing the words to come out quite as sharply as he means them. "Are you kidding me?" The bartender nods, shoulders squared. He's probably used to this sort of thing, but Sehun is not used to being denied anything ever. The logical part of his brain says that the bartender is right, and he's wasted more money on drinks than is recommended, considering the amount of alcohol that comes with spending that much money. The drunk part of Sehun's brain forces him to stumble to his feet angrily.

"Shitty establishment," he spits, pointing a finger at the man. "Let a man get alcohol poisoning if wants, yeah?" His words slur, and Sehun's not quite sure his sentence made sense, but he all but trips his way out of the bar, blinking in the sudden calm of the street in comparison to the club. He thinks about the blue drink he'd been attempting to drown in all night and stares at the darker blue of the sky. The keys in his pocket feel heavy, and for all of Sehun’s death wishes, he doesn’t want to hurt someone else in the process. Driving intoxicated with this many other drivers on the road is not something he cares to experience. 

Sehun plops down on the bus stop bench, leaning his head in his hands. He’s not sure what time it is, and he doesn’t carry his phone with him. The dials on his watch face spin too much for him to read, and finally he accepts that the bartender may have been right- he really is hammered. 

“Whoa, hey are you...okay?” A young voice, lilting and playful, interrupts Sehun’s thoughts, and he jerks to his right, staring up from his place on the bench to see a boy looking at him with concern. He seems too young to be out on these streets, and he’s too covered in jeans and an oversized hoodie to be attempting to sell his body. 

“No,” Sehun answers, and his honesty shocks even himself. The boy blinks.

“You’re really drunk,” he says, and yeah, Sehun is already aware, thank you very much. “Can I...help you get home, or something? Call someone for you?” Sehun blinks a few times. He knows nice people, but nice strangers are a rarity. This kid looks to young to be out here, but his smile is bright, and Sehun just can’t find it in himself to say no.

“No phone,” he grunts, and the kid gapes at him.

“You don’t have a cell phone?” He asks, incredulous. HIs voice is just a tad too loud, and Sehun winces. “Sorry, sorry. Just. That’s not common nowadays, you know?” Sehun closes his eyes.

“I do have one,” he says, and the boy’s nose scrunches as he tries to decipher Sehun’s slurring. “‘s at home.” The boy nods. 

“Where do you live?” He asks, and then flushes immediately. “I. I mean. I’m Baekhyun.” He’s harmless, at least, and Sehun isn’t sure he’ll be able to walk anyway. He stands, and his knees buckle, but Baekhyun grabs onto him firmly.

“The bus is coming down the road now,” he says. “Give me your address. I’ll get you back.” And Sehun, for how much he wants to step in front of the bus and let it all end, finds himself agreeing, rattling off his condominium’s location to the boy. Baekhyun shakes his head, a small wrinkle between his eyebrows betraying that he couldn’t quite decipher Sehun’s words, and Sehun hands over his ID instead.

“Oh!” He says. He nods to himself. “I know that area.” The bus stops, and Baekhyun grabs Sehun’s elbow. After a brief moment of resistance, Sehun allows himself to be pulled up to the automated doors and led inside. 

Sehun is a rather complacent drunk, and the bus ride is rather uneventful- a few other drunk people having slightly too loud conversations and younger kids staring at them with wide eyes are the only entertainment. Baekhyun doesn’t attempt conversation other than to check that he’s got Sehun’s address correct in his head for which Sehun is grateful. 

Baekhyun’s mouth goes a little slack when they step off the bus and into the lobby of Sehun’s apartment building.

“You’re rich,” he whispers, and Sehun wants to sigh, to explain to him that he’s not rich by choice but rather by inheritance, that he’s done nothing to become wealthy, that he’s really quite useless and not a single person would miss him in the corporate world if he were to disappear, but all he manages is a slow shake of his head. 

“Well, you’re home,” Baekhyun says, gesturing around the lobby. Sehun nods, slightly distracted by the way the room isn’t staying entirely still around him. Baekhyun is gentle as he leads Sehun to the elevator, guiding his hand to the call button and slipping inside to press the button for Sehun’s floor before stepping back quickly.

“You’re not-?” Sehun starts to ask but catches himself. He doesn’t to need to invite any potentially underage young men up to his room. Baekhyun appears to be on the same page; he shakes his head.

“Gotta get home, I think,” he says. “Parents and all. So. Um. Goodnight, Mr. Oh.”

Sehun blinks at the sudden use of his name. “Night,” he manages as clearly as he can. Baekhyun smiles at him, and for one moment, Sehun is blinded. He thinks about the sun and about his poison blue drink at the club as he stumbles into his apartment. The decor, simple black and white- no stains, nothing personal- greets him, and Sehun’s tiredness crashes into him, practically bowling him over onto his bed. He doesn’t bother to undress, flopping down on the covers with his shoes hanging over one end and his arms hanging over the other. From here, through his open bedroom door, he can see the kitchen. He thinks about the pills hidden away in the farthest cabinet, and he thinks of Baekhyun’s sunny smile. 

Sighing, Sehun turns his head the other way, cushioning its weight on his arm. On his nightstand, his phone’s notification LED light blinks in steady pulsing blue. Sehun stares, and slowly, his eyelids droop closed.

___

 

Sehun jolts awake with a feeling like knives driving into his school and a sonic boom slitting his eardrums. 

_Hangover,_ he thinks blearily as his phone, the source of his waking, continues to wail about cheese, wine, and wolves. It’s Jongin calling, the personal ringtone he set for himself basically ensuring that Sehun answers the phone because _who in their right mind writes a song about cheese?_ Sehun can’t even stand to listen to it. 

He rolls over, squinting at the screen and debating ignoring Jongin. The first howl in the song starts, and Sehun presses answer. 

“What.” He says by way of greeting. Jongin’s sigh of relief greets him after, and it’s soft for which Sehun is grateful.

“Sehun,” Jongin starts. He’s quiet, but his stone is upset and worried. “You have got to start taking your phone out of your house! I couldn’t get ahold of you, and I had no idea where you were!”

Sehun flops back onto his back. “You’re not my mother,” he says. He closes his eyes. The little light creeping in from his kitchen burns in his retinas. “And I don’t need a keeper.” Jongin laughs, but it’s humorless. 

“You and I both know that you do,” Jongin says. “And I know you’ve been better but--”

“Jongin,” Sehun interrupts. He doesn’t use Jongin’s name often, preferring to call him hyung in place of sunbae because, in Sehun’s mind, Jongin is the senior in their company. He studied business and did well. Sehun’s position is due to his father. “I really don’t want to talk about this right now.”

Jongin sighs, and it echoes in the emptiness of Sehun’s room. “Go back to therapy, Sehun,” Jongin says, and his voice borders on begging. “Please.”

“I have to go, Jongin,” Sehun whispers, and he hangs up. Jongin will be pissed later, but for now, Sehun will enjoy the moments before Jongin rags on him about being the older one and Sehun complacents him with a quiet murmur of “hyung.” He thanks the powers that be that it’s Saturday. His head throbs in agreement. 

___

The Saturday street market near Sehun’s place isn’t huge, but it’s got the essentials, and Sehun needs some groceries. After downing about four advil, a liter of coffee, and another pint of water (exaggerations, but hangovers are no joke), Sehun had dressed and set out to get a few things for his kitchen. 

He regrets it immediately as soon as he hits the wall of sound that is vendors and buyers and the curious children running around in between. Sehun sets off towards the left, aiming for the less crowded vendors and hoping he can find what he needs there. He follows the crowd in, preparing to veer off and swim upstream towards a vendor he recognizes, when the person in front of Sehun trips. 

Automatically, Sehun reaches out and grabs the boy’s upper arm, pulling him back up and steadying him.

“S-sorry,” the boy starts. “I wasn’t paying- Mr. Oh?” Sehun blinks. The boy smiles, and Sehun feels oddly blinded. He knows him.

“Baekhyun, right?” Sehun says. The boy nods, and Sehun can’t believe that he has actually managed to remember his name in his drunken haze. He remembers the smile with clarity. 

“Are you here with your parents?” Sehun asks, glancing around. Baekhyun shakes his head.

“I just like coming out here,” he says easily. “See if I can convince some vendor to give me enough samples to equal lunch.” He laughs, and his eyes curve up and disappear into little crescents. 

“So. You haven’t eaten?” Sehun asks slowly, realizing as he speaks that he hasn’t either. 

“Err. One lady gave me some rice cake, so...technically…” Baekhyun trails out, but now he’s looking at Sehun with this sort of hopeful gleam, leaning forward just slightly, the corners of his lips curling up.

"What about you?" He asks, and he's bright.

"Alright fine," Sehun hears himself saying before he's really thought it through. "I'll buy you lunch." He turns, heading back towards the entrance to the market. "I suppose I owe you for helping me out yesterday, anyway." Baekhyun cheers behind Sehun.

"Awesome," he nearly shouts. "You're so cool, Mr. Oh."

"Sehun," Sehun interjects. "Call me Sehun." He points at Baekhyun. "And that's hyung, to you." Baekhyun grins at Sehun, and for once, Sehun doesn't feel like an adult who found work too early in something for which he has no capacity. He doesn't even feel like the world is pulling his string of fate tight around his neck and handing him the scissors the cut the noose.

"Barbecue okay with you?" Sehun asks, and even if will be expensive, it's not like he's at a loss for money. The smile Baekhyun gives him in return is worth it anyway.

"Aw, Sehun," Baekhyun says, and he hesitates before he winks, the lack of a spoken "hyung" hanging between them. Sehun blinks a few times.

"You're really a brat, aren't you," he states, not bothering to question is when the answer is so obvious.

For once, the thought of the pills in Sehun's kitchen doesn't pass through his head, and the thought of snipping away the strings tying him to life doesn't grab at him, trying to pull him overboard.

Lunch passes with idle conversation and Baekhyun snorting milk out of nose, which honestly repulses Sehun and makes him question his choice of taking the boy out to lunch, but Baekhyun is funny, entertaining, and today is quickly becoming the best Saturday that Sehun has had in a long time.

He learns that Baekhyun is already eighteen and preparing to go to university for some sort of math degree. Sehun thinks dryly that he should hire him to manage the books at his company if he manages to graduate. Baekhyun tells Sehun about his job at the convenience store and his ugly manager, and he tells Sehun about his best friends Jongdae and Chanyeol who are just as short as he is.

“Chanyeol’s not really short,” Baekhyun says like it’s some big secret. “But his lack of intelligence brings him down to my level.” Sehun laughs, and it feels strange but nice. He doesn’t mind the kid’s company, doesn’t mind that Baekhyun calls him “Sehun” and not “hyung.” He doesn’t even mind that Baekhyun wheedles Sehun’s KaKaoTalk ID out of him and sends him emoticons that he only sees when he gets home from work. 

It’s nice, so Sehun lets this continue, lets himself break out of the shell of nothing that he fits himself into when he’s alone.

Sehun meets Baekhyun for lunch or dinner sometimes, and Jongin asks Sehun questions that Sehun avoids by simply refusing to answer. Jongin’s fine as long as Sehun doesn’t seem suddenly worse in his depression or miraculously better. They’ve been through that once, and Jongin is wary of Sehun swinging hard either direction. 

Right now, Sehun has someone who might be a little too young for a twenty-seven year old businessman to be hanging around, but if nothing else, he doesn’t feel quite so alone. 

___

Sehun’s landline rings, and he jerks up from the settings on his rice cooker. There are three organizations who have his landline number: his counselor, his work, and the downstairs lobby. At this time of night, the sky already dark and a good number of lights in around the city already out, there is only one option of the three that could feasibly be calling, but Sehun doesn’t understand what the lobby would need from him.

“Oh residence,” he answers.

“Mr. Oh,” the answering voice says. “I have a young man here asking for you? He says his name is Byun Baekhyun. I can send him away unless you have--?”

“I’ll be down in a moment,” Sehun says shortly, hanging up. He jams his feet into casual shoes and throws on a jacket over his shirt before heading to the elevator. His mind whirls with no resolutions, only curiosities as to why Baekhyun would be here. The doors open.

For how calm the receptionist had sounded, Sehun is not expecting this scene. Baekhyun sits in one of the lobby chairs with his knees pulled up to his chest and his face blotchy.

“Baekhyun?” Sehun calls out as he approaches. Baekhyun jumps a little at the sound of his name, but when his eyes settle on Sehun, he face crumples again, tears slipping down his cheeks and wetting the knees of his jeans. Sehun feels that sort of ingrown panic that comes with seeing people crying. He’s used to seeing people cry and stare at him with accusation, their fingers tracing over the lines of scars on his wrists or over the prescriptions to keep him balanced. He used to associating hate with crying, but Baekhyun doesn’t know that history. Baekhyun is bright, and watching him cry is like that terrible poison blue settling over Sehun’s heart. 

“Baekhyun,” Sehun repeats. He sits down next to the boy. “What are you doing here?” Baekhyun breathes deeply a few times, his exhalations shaky.

“I. I’m sorry,” he starts with, but Sehun stays quiet, waiting. “I’m sorry, just-- I didn’t know where else to go and I--” He cuts himself off, biting hard on his lip. “I thought it would be okay but-- but. It’s not okay.” His knuckles turn white as he grips hard on the fabric covering his shins. 

“You’re crying, Baekhyun,” Sehun states. “Of course you’re not okay. Tell me what’s wrong.” It comes off almost like a demand, and Sehun flinches. 

“I wanted-- my parents, they,” Baekhyun tries, his words clumsy through his tears. “I told them. I’ve been wanting to tell them. And I thought now, maybe-- I’m about to graduate, and I thought that now they wouldn’t be upset, but they-- they _kicked me out.”_ He ducks his face behind his knees again, and Sehun slowly, hesitantly, raises a hand and sets it between Baekhyun’s shoulder blades.

“I came out to them,” Baekhyun whispers. “I told them that I’m gay. And they… they turned their backs on me.” Baekhyun collapses to the side, holding on to Sehun and Sehun simply lets him. Baekhyun hadn’t mentioned it to Sehun before, but he’d assumed as much. He can’t judge anyway; he had his own fight with his sexuality long ago. 

Once Baekhyun’s shaking has mostly calmed, Sehun stands and helps Baekhyun to his feet. 

“Come on,” he says.

“Where,” Baekhyun breathes miserably. “I don’t have anywhere to go.”

“Just come up with me,” Sehun says. Baekhyun hesitates. “Or sleep in the lobby. I’ll tell them not to kick you out.”

“No! I don’t want-- it’s really okay?” Baekhyun asks, his red rimmed eyes pitifully hopeful. Sehun nods. “For me to stay with you?”

“For tonight,” Sehun says. “We’ll talk more when you’re calm.” Baekhyun all but clings to Sehun as he leads the boy to the elevator this time, waving gratefully at the woman behind the desk. She nods. 

“I know you don’t really, you know, know me,” Baekhyun tries to say as the elevator ascends. Sehun just shakes his head, and Baekhyun falls silent. His fingers curl a little tighter around the hem of Sehun’s jacket, and Sehun thinks he’s made the right decision for once.

___

"So, let me get this straight," Jongdae muses, tearing open the wrapping for another bag of honey butter chips. "He's tall. Hot. Rich. You found him when he was drunk?"

Baekhyun snatches up a bag of his own chips. "Yeah. That's right." He tears into it, stuffing a handful of Jongdae's favorite treat in his mouth. He grimaces. “These are disgusting.” He throws the bag back at Jongdae.

Jongdae throws back his head and laughs. "Dude, your luck is insane! I'm in shock, seriously." He presses a crumb covered hand over his heart, awkwardly holding his fingers off of his chest.

"Right place at the right time," Baekhyun says casually, shrugging. He wipes his hands off on his jeans. "Living with him now." Jongdae jolts at that.

"He fell for it?" He grins, mouth wide and the human depiction of the cat that caught the canary.

"Hook, line, and sinker," Baekhyun confirms. He hops off the crate he's sitting on, shoving his hands in his pockets. "I think he might be worth enough for getting a real place. Maybe even get out of the country." He glances around at the old warehouse he and Jongdae call home. It's not a particularly warm or quiet spot with the streets right outside, but it's free shelter. Besides, Jongdae got a car out of his last scam, so they can at least run the heater and recline the seats to sleep if they need to.

Jongdae shakes his head. "You're incredible," he praises. "Truly a con man for the storybooks. Better than Robin Hood."

"Robin Hood was actually good," Baekhyun retorts. "I'm like. Catwoman." Jongdae snorts unattractively, stands, and brushes off the crumbs from his hoodie.

"Well, Cat-hyun," he says. "How long is this full job going to take you?" Baekhyun presses a finger to his lip, thinking. There are three parts to a job: initial contact, trust and relationship, and the steal.

"Once he's in love with me enough to trust me for real," Baekhyun says slowly. "Then I'll have him. Millions, I'm telling you." Jongdae twirls the keys to his car around his finger.

"Okay, great," he says. "But that's not a time span."

"A few more weeks," Baekhyun says. "I've already been working on him for maybe five now anyway. We'll be rich soon." He turns and locks pinkies with Jongdae, pressing their thumbs together the way they have ever since they were kids in the foster care system together. It's always been the two of them looking out for each other like brothers, and that's all Baekhyun needs.

___

Sehun is asleep, and Baekhyun is snooping. It’s routine procedure to figure out just how much value is in the household items themselves. He needs to know what things are best to nab, and what to leave behind.

Baekhyun wanders over to Sehun’s bedside table, watching Sehun carefully. He’s not a light sleeper, and the drink he’d had before bed is only working in Baekhyun’s favor right now. He opens the drawer, shuffling through the receipts and old hand-written letters from Sehun’s mother. There are a few checks in here, _Birthday Money_ written on the M.O., but nothing of substantial value.

Sehun’s phone starts to buzz.

Baekhyun jolts, smacking his hand on the top of the drawer. He bites his lip to keep from whining at the dull pain. He glares at Sehun’s phone, watching it buzz until finally a notification for a new voicemail pops up.

Curiosity has always been one of Baekhyun’s more defining traits. He grabs the phone and steps out into the living room, typing in Sehun’s password and waiting.

_”Sehun,”_ the message starts. The voice is low and genuinely concerned. _”It’s been awhile since we’ve talked. And I know you don’t want to talk, but I have to check in on you, man.”_ The informality speaks enough of the relationship Sehun has with the speaker. The ‘missed call’ notification reads ‘Kim Jongin.’

“ _I hope you’re staying away from. Well. The drugs and everything else. You seem better though, so. I’m both worried and relieved. You understand what I mean, right?_ ” The speaker, Kim Jongin, heaves a sigh. “ _Anyway, I don’t have anything to say really. Just-- be well, Sehun, okay? I’ll see you around the office. _” The message cuts out, and Baekhyun blinks at the phone. Shoving the device in his pocket, he takes off around the apartment again. He’s not looking for worth this time, however. He opens the cabinets and the drawers, and in the last cabinet, Oh Sehun printed on the label, is an orange bottle of Sarafem.__

__Anti-depressant._ _

__That’s not the only medication, and as Baekhyun reads the labels, some for Sehun and some for random names and with even more random dates, realization starts to slam into him with the force of a freight train. Baekhyun stumbles back from the kitchen, the phone suddenly weighing like a ton of bricks in his pocket._ _

___Oh,_ Baekhyun thinks. Suddenly, Sehun makes so much more sense, and Baekhyun’s chest aches. _ Oh, fuck._

___

Baekhyun collapses on the couch, twiddling his thumbs and hanging his head. 

He fucked up. Sehun is a genuine guy, he knows. He's also mentally ill. If Baekhyun takes from him, it could be Sehun's end. Then again, if Baekhyun doesn't, and Sehun kicks him out, it'll be _his_ end. He checks his own phone. A message from Jongdae flashes at him.

_One more week, right?_ It says. Baekhyun sighs and sets the phone down on the coffee table. He grabs for the water bottle next to him and sighs again when he notices it's empty. His phone starts ringing. It's Jongdae.

"One week!" Baekhyun answers, exasperated. Jongdae whines.

"Look, man," Jongdae says. "I'm sick of cup ramen dinners. You've been with this guy for months."

"His name is Sehun-hyung," Baekhyun snaps.

"Hyung?" Jongdae repeats, voice low and slow. Baekhyun feels bile rise in the back of his throat. "You don't call people hyung, Baekhyun." Jongdae is right. Baekhyun doesn't call people hyung. He doesn't even call Sehun hyung to his face. He's called one person in his life hyung, and when his actual brother abandoned him in the foster system, the word became taboo for him- never to be used again. He doesn’t _need_ a hyung, and yet--

"I-" He tries to start, to defend himself.

"You actually like him," Jongdae interrupts, and he sounds peeved, borderline pissed. "You know you're going to steal from him and leave him. Why the hell would you fuck it up?"

"Jongdae, that's stupid. I don't-"

"Then tell me," Jongdae bites out. "Exactly what it you're doing calling him 'hyung?'" Baekhyun bites on his lip, standing.

"There is over a million in items in this apartment," Baekhyun breathes harshly, his throat burning. "That's not including the bank cards and cash."

"I'm running low, Baekhyun," Jongdae says desperately. "And you're sitting in a cushy apartment calling some rich guy hyung."

"I'll bring you money tomorrow, then," Baekhyun hisses. "And a fucking watch of Sehun's or something if you want to pawn it off. Just calm-"

"Who are you?" Baekhyun jerks up, and in front of him is not Sehun, but the voice he heard in the voice message. It’s the voice he often hears Sehun talking to on the phone when Sehun bothers to answer it. Work, Sehun always explains. Busy body, Baekhyun usually teases back.

"Jongdae," Baekhyun says without hesitation. "Three more weeks. I have to go." He ignores Jongdae's indignant screech, dropping his phone into his pocket and standing up straight.

"Hi," he says, pulling on the character that fooled Sehun into letting him stay. "I'm Baekhyun. I. Who are you? What are you doing in Mr. Oh's house?" The guy snorts.

"Mr. Oh, huh?" He says. "Could have sworn just a minute ago I heard you say 'Sehun.' And something about pawning watches?" He looks mad, and Baekhyun feigns confusion.

"Just kidding around with a friend, Mr...?" He trails out, but he already knows who this is. Jongin, Sehun's friend and colleague, is tall with an angled face that reminds Baekhyun faintly of Jongdae.

"Kim Jongin," Jongin says. Baekhyun skirts the couch, holding out a hand to shake with the taller man. Jongin takes his hand, but his frown is still apparent on his face. 

"I think," Jongin continues. "That you should leave."

"What?" Baekhyun says, drawing back his hand. "Mr. Oh is letting me stay here. He owns this place. You can't kick me out! I think I probably have more right to ask you to leave!" Jongin rolls his eyes.

"Sehun asked me to get his phone on his way back from lunch," Jongin says plainly, stepping towards the bathroom. Baekhyun steps to block his path.

"Se- Mr. Oh never takes his phone anywhere," Baekhyun protests. "I've never seen it leave his nightstand." Jongin sets a hand on Baekhyun's shoulder, lightly moving him out of the way.

"You've only known him for a short time," Jongin argues, but he doesn't refuse Baekhyun's statement, and that gives Baekhyun the courage to step back in front of Jongin.

"You didn't disagree," Baekhyun states. "You know I'm right. You just wanted an excuse to come here." Jongin freezes, looking shocked. "Tell me why you're here."

"I don't believe that's any of your business," Jongin retorts. Baekhyun leans up against the door frame to Sehun's bedroom.

"If you wanted to know why he's so happy," Baekhyun starts, drawing on his memory of Jongin's voice mail from not too many days past. "The answer is me. And if you're looking for those pills, they're in that cabinet." He points towards the first cabinet in the kitchen, staring hard at Jongin. There's a long moment between them, eyes defiant, before Jongin sighs.

"You heard my message," he says, and it's not a question, so Baekhyun gives no reply. Jongin takes another step closer to Baekhyun, leaning forward so that they're face to face.

"I know your type," Jongin says cruelly. A shiver runs down Baekhyun's back. "I don't know why you chose Sehun, but I will tell you this. Hurt him, and I will track you down." He doesn't finish his threat with any promises of torture or a life of poverty but instead turns and marches out of the apartment. Baekhyun releases a breath he didn't realize he'd been holding when the door shuts firmly behind Jongin.

He should leave now, his past experience tells him. He's been caught, and he should gather what he can and just go. But the prideful part of Baekhyun hasn't gotten everything from Sehun that he wants yet, the account is still mostly empty in his mind.

And for some odd reason, Baekhyun still feels safe here. After this scam, he thinks, he'll let Jongdae take care of the show for awhile.

___

A knock startles Sehun out of his concentrated grumbling at a few numbers for last month's sales and expenses, trying to figure out where he can put more emphasis and where he can spend less and where he should invest more money. It's a dull process that he always has to have Jongin look over later because Sehun can't get it right. Never has and never will- despite what Jongin tells him.

Speak of the devil, of course, and he shall appear. The door opens, and there stands Jongin, a frown on his face and his coat draped over one arm.

“Sehun,” Jongin starts without actual introduction, and Sehun wrinkles his lip.

“You can’t say hello?” He asks dryly, shoving the graphs and calculator away from himself. “I’m almost done with these, if you want to just take them.” His pen rolls off of his desk and drops down near his feet.

“Those are the monthly reports?” Jongin asks, leaning forward to see clearer. “You know I always use your figures. Why do you insist on me checking-?”

“What are you here for, Jongin?” Sehun interrupts. “I have another project before I can go home.”

“That’d be what I’m here for, actually.”

Sehun pauses in his reaching for his pen. “Excuse me?”

“I was at your place today,” Jongin explains, and he’s wearing a face that Sehun knows well. It means don’t talk, don’t protest, just listen. Sehun sinks back in his chair, swallowing the angry yell rising in his throat. “And I met someone while I was there; he says his name is Baekhyun.” Sehun nods stiffly.

“Sehun!” Jongin bursts out, tossing his jacket over the back of one of Sehun’s chairs. “Don’t you know what he’s doing!?” He runs a hand through his hair. “He’s conning you! He wants you to think you love him so he can take your money and run with it! I can’t believe you’d be so stupid-!”

“Jongin!” Sehun snaps, standing. His newly retrieved pen clatters to the ground again. “Do you really think I’m not aware of that?” He pushes his chair back, planting his hands on his desk. “Do you really think I don’t see him looking at all my things and don’t hear him muttering numbers under his breath? Do you really think I didn’t figure it out after a couple of weeks with him? And don’t you think that if I cared, I would have done something to get rid of him a while ago?”

“I had no way of knowing that you knew, Sehun!” Jongin shouts. “You wouldn’t talk to me!”

“Maybe because I knew that you’d come in here and tell me to get rid of him!”

Jongin’s forehead creases. “When did I say that? You’re putting words in my mouth!”

“I can read between the lines, Jongin,” Sehun yells back. “But you didn’t even consider that maybe I’m just lonely? Maybe I don’t want to feel like this- I don’t want to be depressed, you know?” Sehun pants, and his eyes sting. “It doesn’t matter to me if I’m being _used!_ For once I feel needed, and happy, and I don’t feel fucking lonely with him the way I do with the rest of you walking on eggshells around me!” Sehun pauses taking in a breath, his hands curled into tight fists.

“These past few weeks I haven’t thought about how much better it’ll be if I’m gone,” he says, voice nearly choked into a whisper. He meets Jongin’s eyes. “I want you to leave now.” 

“You’re being irrational, Sehun,” Jongin mutters under his breath, but Sehun hears him.

“And why,” Sehun asks to Jongin’s back. “Did you just go to my house without asking me in the first place?” Jongin’s shoulders sag.

“You’d been suddenly so happy,” Jongin says. “And you wouldn’t tell me why. You know what that looks like to me?” He turns, and his eyes are a bit too shiny. “You know what memory that draws up for me?” Sehun steps back, guilt slamming into him. “I thought I might be close to losing you. I was looking for what exactly made you that way.”

Sehun breathes. “Well. I guess you found him.” Jongin nods once, and the office door closes. 

___

When Sehun gets home, he opens the door to Baekhyun standing there waiting for him in his shoes and jacket.

“Are you going somewhere?” Sehun asks. Baekhyun nods.

“Yeah,” he says. “Up to the rooftop. Will you come up with me?” Sehun doesn’t really get a response as his briefcase is tugged out of his hands and set on the tile of the entrance hall, and he’s being pulled back out the door, only managing to hear the click of the lock before Baekhyun’s dragging him up the service stairs and out into the night air. 

Sehun’s familiar with this place. It’s one of the places he stood before he decided on slitting his wrists on his last failed attempt at his life. The psychologist told him it means he still has a will to live. Now, standing here with Baekhyun, his hand tucked into the shorter boy’s grip, he’s kind of glad he survived. 

“There’s something my brother used to do for me when I couldn’t sleep,” Baekhyun says quietly, voice blending with the chill of the wind around them. It’s soothing, but Sehun can sense that it’s not the full truth that Baekhyun speaks. He doesn’t mind though. The night air feels nice in his lungs, and Baekhyun’s hand is warm. 

“What is that?” He prompts. 

Baekhyun smiles, and despite the late hour, the sun is out. “There’s this old trot song. I bet you know it.” He shuffles his feet, slightly embarrassed. “He used to sing it to me. I’m from Busan, so there were more stars, but. I-- I want to sing it to you?” His voice lilts up, asking Sehun for permission. Sehun nods, unsure if there’s any way he could possibly say no. 

Baekhyun, ears red, open his mouth, and sings. It’s soft, almost too quiet, and the words slips past Sehun without comprehension, but he feels safe, almost cradled by the wind as if carries Baekhyun’s voice.

Sehun almost doesn’t realize he’s moved until his hands are buried in the soft fabric of Baekhyun’s scarf, and he’s standing right in front of him. Baekhyun stops singing, staring at Sehun with wide eyes. Slowly, carefully, Sehun leans forward, sees Baekhyun’s head tilt back, follows the way his eyes ever so slowly slip closed. He can feel his breath on his chin, and Sehun pauses a breath away, watching Baekhyun’s face. Baekhyun slowly opens his eyes, lips trembling.

“Hyung,” he breathes. 

“You don’t call me hyung,” Sehun reminds him, gently, though his heart is soaring. 

“Shut up, Sehun,” Baekhyun says, grabbing Sehun by the lapels of his coat and pulling him down. Baekhyun kisses like sunshine, hot and insistent, and Sehun gives in, ignores the voice of Jongin warning him in his head, and wraps his arms around Baekhyun, kissing him back. 

___

“He’s still there, then,” Jongin says spitefully a week later, and Sehun nods. He can feel dread crawling over his skin these past few days, knowing that the end of this daydream is fast approaching. Jongin warns him of the same thing, and Sehun is too stubborn to say “I know” because if he does that will make this ending real.

On his break for lunch that afternoon, Sehun makes a quick stop at the bank and walks back to work with a new card in his wallet. When he gets home that night, he notices that a few things in his apartment have been moved around, but he doesn’t say anything. 

“Hi,” Baekhyun greets him, stepping up on his tiptoes to drop a kiss on Sehun’s lips. It taste sweet.

“What were you eating?” Sehun questions, licking his own lips in an effort to identify the taste. 

“Chocolate,” Baekhyun says. Sehun rolls his eyes.

“Are you even hungry for dinner anymore then?” He asks. He hefts the bag in his hand. “I bought food.” Baekhyun snatches the bag from him.

“Always hungry,” he declares, all but throwing Sehun’s apron at him as he tugs him into the kitchen. Cooking together is oddly domestic, and Sehun sees it as a hint when Baekhyun wraps his arms around him from behind as they watch the rice cooker’s timer countdown to finish.

“I really love you,” Sehun tells Baekhyun as they sit at the table and eat, and Baekhyun’s face flickers through regret, happiness, and excitement before he whispers back to Sehun the same words. He sounds startlingly sincere, so when he gets out of his seat and draws Sehun into the bedroom with him, it comes as a pleasant surprise.

Sex with Baekhyun is all soft stomachs and sharp elbows, and it tastes bittersweet- making a goodbye out of what should be a promise. 

Sehun doesn’t cry, but he wants to.

___

It’s just past two in the morning when Baekhyun wakes. He’s shivering, and he realizes a second too late that it’s because he’s wiggled himself out of the blankets and out of Sehun’s arms. He wants to dive back under, but the yellow notification light on his phone is blinking warningly and him. With a sigh, Baekhyun quietly creeps out of Sehun’s room, gathering up his clothes on the way.

He’s quiet and slow, thankful that Sehun is a heavy sleeper, as he unzips the duffle bag he’d stashed under the couch and wraps up expensive trinkets and devices from around Sehun’s apartment. His mouth tastes like salt when he slips back into Sehun’s bedroom to grab a few watches from his dresser. He looks back at Sehun’s form, still sleeping, and doesn’t even let himself mouth the word “goodbye” as he slips back into the main room, zipping up his bag and grabbing for Sehun’s wallet. 

He opens the plain leather, and inside is nothing but a wad of cash. Sehun’s identification cards and bank cards are gone, and Baekhyun has to bite hard on his lip to stop himself from crying. Sehun knows, he realizes too late. Bag slung over his shoulder, Baekhyun steps into his shoes, fingers closing around the door handle.

“Bye, Sehun,” he whispers. The lights flick on.

“Baekhyun?”

Baekhyun’s blood runs cold. His heart rate speeds in his chest. He takes a breath before he looks up, and there, leaning in the doorway to his bedroom is Sehun. Of course it’s Sehun- there’s no one else here. But Baekhyun wishes it was anyone but Sehun.

“Sehun,” he starts. “I-” And he stops because, really, what else is there for him to say? 

“You almost forgot something,” Sehun says, and he holds out a card, the face black and embossed letters done in silver.

“What?” Baekhyun says, looking from the card to Sehun’s face and back again. His grip on the door handle tightens. He already knows from moments ago that Sehun knew this would happen, but to see him here, offering more to Baekhyun, is baffling. 

“One million won every month,” Sehun says. “I will put that amount in this account every month.” He steps forward, the stick of his bare feet on the tile resounding in the quiet. “Take it.”

Baekhyun wants to refuse, but he finds himself reaching forward to take the card. His fingers brush over Sehun’s hand before he slides the card into his back pocket.

“Stay alive,” he says instead of “thank you” or a goodbye. Sehun’s eyes light, and his mouth opens in a small ‘o’ of understanding. He doesn’t say anything in return, no farewells or reminders that he told Baekhyun he loves him. It’s probably best that way.

___

“Fucking finally,” Jongdae says when he pulls up next to Baekhyun where he’s walking down the street, heavy bag slowing him down. He puts the car in park, and the trunk opens. “Put that back there.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Baekhyun waves him off, walking backwards a few steps to carefully set the duffle back inside. “I know how this works, asshole.” He closes the door once he’s got himself safely inside the car. He thinks about the black card in his back pocket.

“Hey,” he offers. “Want to get a hotel tonight? Better than the warehouse.” Jongdae looks at him incredulously.

“We haven’t pawned anything yet, dude. We don’t have money.”

“No seriously,” Baekhyun says as they stop for a red light. “Look at this.” He holds up the card and watches Jongdae’s lips shape out his name as he reads the name in the cardholder’s space. 

“How the hell did you swing that?” Jongdae whoops excitedly, taking a turn and heading towards one of the more upscale hotels in the area. “Fuck yeah man. I want a bath.” Baekhyun smiles. He did good on this job.

At least, that’s what he tries to tell himself. 

Jongdae drags Baekhyun to dick around in the hotel’s casino and bar, and the following day they hit up their favorite pawn shops to sell off the stuff they don’t want for themselves. Baekhyun finds himself keeping far more than he usually does. Jongdae gives him looks but says nothing, and for this, Baekhyun is grateful. Especially since Baekhyun wakes up in cold sweat, thinking about the pills Sehun still has hidden in his kitchen. Especially since Baekhyun wakes up with images of Sehun on his bathroom floor still fresh in his mind.

“I’m going out,” Baekhyun says five days after leave Sehun’s apartment. He tosses another shrimp shell into the trash. They’ve used up as little cash as possible, spending enough get themselves passports out of Korea and ID cards. Jongdae stands.

“Market? It’s Saturday.” He suggests, and Baekhyun couldn’t agree more. He loves the markets-- and the ladies he flirts with will probably still give him free samples. 

___

“You’ve been oddly quiet today,” Jongdae mumbles around a mouthful of food. He’d broken in and paid for his snack while Baekhyun laughed at him.

“Well, look at that. A little money and you’ve gone soft,” Baekhyun argues pointing at some sauce at the corner of Jongdae’s lips. “I’m saving my breath.”

Jongdae snorts. “Or you’re simply not talkative. Mind still stuck on Sehun?” He wiggles his eyebrows. Baekhyun shoves his shoulder.

“That has nothing to do with-”

“No, I haven’t seen him anywhere!” 

Baekhyun cuts out. He knows that voice.

“Baek?” Jongdae starts next to him, and Baekhyun shushes him, glancing around for the source of the voice.

“No,” Jongin is saying, his voice cutting in and out with the crowd. “Not at the office.” Baekhyun grabs Jongdae, his fingers closing tight around his wrist as something crashes into him and makes his heart skip a beat or two, chest restricting painfully. “Of course not! He hasn’t left the house then.” Baekhyun turns left, and as the words leave Jongin’s mouth, their eyes meet. “But he always answers the phone if he’s home.”

Panic.

“Jongdae, I--” Baekhyun says. 

“Just go.” Baekhyun takes off running. The market isn’t far from Sehun’s place, but Baekhyun, with his heart in his throat and his stomach somewhere around the vicinity of his ankles, is breathing hard when he bursts through the rotating door into the lobby. He barely manages a nod at the receptionist and nearly knocks some guy over on his way to the elevator.

He taps his foot impatiently as the the little lights above him change, indicating the floors as they rise. His hand are balled into fists at his side, and he’s shaking. His breathing coming in little ragged gasps that he can’t quite get under control.

The doors slide open, and Baekhyun all but flies out, slamming into Sehun’s door.

“Sehun!” He yells, pounding on the heavy wood with the side of his fist. It hurts, but the bile rising in his throat is a forewarning to something far more painful than a bruised hand. “Sehun, open the door!” Silence is the only answer Baekhyun receives, and his chest heaves. His ears burn in shame because _how dare he_ come back here when all this could very well be his fault? Tears sting at the the backs of his eyes. He tries hard to blink the sensation away, but the memory of Jongin’s voice echoing in Baekhyun’s ears through the voicemail he left on Sehun’s phone bounces around in Baekhyun’s mind. He sees Sehun on his bedroom floor or his bathroom floor, his body still, unmoving and cold. 

He imagines the prescription pain killers that were set in hiding in the last kitchen cabinet falling from Sehun’s hand and to the ground as his body succumbs to an overdose. 

“Sehun!” Baekhyun screams again, sinking to his knees with his forehead against the door. Still he receives no answer.

“Hyung!” He cries desperately, his voice cracking. “Hyung, please!” He’s crying in earnest now, his voice growing weaker as each call is traded in for sobs. “Please, please, please.” He bites his lip hard. “Don’t leave me yet.” And if that isn’t the dumbest thing for him to ask when Baekhyun himself was the one to leave first, when Baekhyun himself never meant for anything like this to happen, when Baekhyun himself--

“Baekhyun?”

It rings from Baekhyun’s side just like it had the first time in the lobby and the second time at the door when Baekhyun left. He jerks up, focusing on Sehun with red, watery eyes. Sehun’s face is etched with deep concern.

“I’m sorry,” Baekhyun says. It’s not what he means to say, but it’s what he needs to say. In this state of what was abject terror at the thought of Sehun being gone, it’s the only thing he _can_ say. “I shouldn’t have come back, but I heard Jongin saying he couldn’t find you and you weren’t at work, and you weren’t answering your phone, and you only leave your phone at home to go to work. I just-- I thought--” Sehun sinks to his knees next to Baekhyun and wraps his arms around his shoulders.

“I’m fine,” he tell him. Something slides down his arm from underneath his jacket sleeve, and Baekhyun stares at the wide white hospital band without understanding.

“What?” He manages, shocked and choked up. Sehun offers him a small smile, wiping away the tears clinging to baekhyun’s lower lashes. 

“Counseling,” Sehun explains. “I went back. I experienced life because of you, Baekhyun. I’m not ready to give up.”

“No,” Baekhyun answers. “I robbed you! You-- you knew! You knew what I was doing, and still you let me leave, and I just--”

“You’re here now though,” Sehun whispers, and his voice is warm. “You worried.”

Jongdae, Baekhyun thinks, was right all along.

“I love you,” he admits. “I love you.” Sehun’s grip around him tightens.

“That is all I ever wanted to hear,” he says. He stands and pulls Baekhyun to his feet. “Now, would you like to come inside?” Baekhyun doesn’t deserve it, but somehow there’s a little miracle here, a little bit of love and lot of healing for them both that waits if Baekhyun just says yes.

“I want to,” he breathes. Sehun steps aside and lets him in.


End file.
